Running
by wittyness
Summary: "Trapped. With no place to go but the unknown. But it's comforting to know we're running towards something—instead of away." Warnings: Implied sex, Dante being Dante, Wide-eyed cute innocent Nero lol


From the first moment I saw him, I knew I'd corrupt Nero Alboeques.

He transferred to our school, a wide eyed freshman in almost all sophomore classes, which was a first indication that he'd be a popular target of harassment. Kids, who were advanced enough to take classes with students a year ahead of them, were usually teased, picked on, and beat up for all they were worth.

This followed the biggest known fact of high school: teenagers are very defensive creatures.

This fact is instilled in you twenty-four-seven. If you make a comment on somebody's outfit—and it's anything less than 'I love it'—then the teenager will immediately going on the defense, defending what they picked out and how great they looked. This was usually your cue to nod your head and walk away as quickly as possible before they go onto the next vicious tactic: offense. They'll start attacking what you're wearing, how you look, so that it can somehow fix whatever's wrong with them.

So, naturally, kids who go above and beyond with their school work get picked on because the teenagers around them become defensive, since they aren't and _can't_ be at that level. Granted, Nero Alboeques didn't exactly understand any of this, he'd been sheltered, homeschooled most of his life, and not at all in tune with the students around him.

He was short with a shock of fluffy white hair and gray-blue eyes, always looking a bit younger than he really was. He wore a cross around his neck everyday, clutching it whenever somebody pushed him around. He never swore or even told any of the teachers he was being hassled (which surprised me a whole lot, considering how many times I wouldn't've blamed him) and he usually ate lunch by himself—always from a brown paper bag with his name on it. He was quiet but unusually kind. Sheltered but trying his hardest to adjust.

Though, I knew he was not the type of person that'd take kindly to any gay advances. He believed in an all powerful deity that burned fags at the stake. Was probably taught to think one way and denounced anything else. I didn't think he could actually punch me, were I ever to try and plant a kiss on him, but I was pretty sure he'd find some way to bring bodily pain upon my body.

And yet—I was in love.

Well…something of the nature, anyways.

I made my decision about halfway through my sophomore year that I was going to have him in some way, shape, or form. I casually followed him and staked out his class schedule (excluding the two classes he actually had with me) and I made sure to find out where his locker was right off the bat. I made a list of the few people he casually conversed with and the activities he was involved with. I watched as his dad picked him up right after school and once I even covertly followed them, which actually lead me to the church he attended, feeling uneasy with the oversized crucified Jesus staring right at me as I made a fast U turn in the parking lot.

So…some would consider this stalker, but I'd rather call it personal reconnaissance.

I spent most of the rest of the year casually trying to get his attention. And let me tell you—it was no easy feat. My best window of opportunity always came during Nutrition or Lunch, I had to be quick though—he'd make a fast trip to his locker and then find a nice quiet spot in the cafeteria where I couldn't really catch his eye unless I actually grew the balls to ask to sit at his table.

Yeah, that wasn't happening yet.

All of this would be substantially easy if we happened to have second and fourth period together, that way I could quietly follow him and make up some excuse to say hi. But, no, his locker was in the B block and I had second period in the N block and fourth period in the R block. That means I had to run all the way across campus in under five minutes if I had any hopes of seeing him at all.

By the end of the year, I'd made my own route, cutting across the P.E. area, across the outdoor stage, through the first quad and then straight down the C hallway, always taking a second to compose myself and catch my breath.

The hardest part was actually finding excuses to talk to him. Sometimes the other guys would knock his books out of his hands and I'd help him pick them up. Sometimes I'd pretend something had fallen out of his backpack (I found out he used a specific brand of mechanical pencils and ended up buying twelve whole packs so that he'd conveniently 'drop' one every couple days.) Sometimes I asked for notes for the classes we shared or pretended I didn't write down the homework assignment.

By the time sophomore year was over, I was starting to feel more and more pathetic by the second.

When junior year rolled in, I made a pact with myself to stop playing the obsessive stalker role and finally start talking to him.

Surprisingly, Nero was the one to make the first move.

"Hey, ...do you mind if I sit with you?"

Here I was, sitting in the first quad on the grass in front of the outdoor stage, bemoaning my life, trying to strategize and work up the courage to go and sit at Nero's table, when the object of my obsession stood in front of me.

Mentally, everything inside of me was screaming _yes, yes, yes_, like Nero had just asked to marry me. I managed to nod my head without looking like a complete retard, trying not to look as excited as I felt. "…Sure."

I could see he misread my reaction, looking almost hesitant, probably slightly regretting his decision. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bother you or anything; I know we don't really know each other and all…"

"No!" Okay, so maybe that came out a little bit more manic than I planned. "It's alright. I don't mind the company." I gave a somewhat reassuring smile, vaguely gesturing to the grass around me.

Nero smiled as well, taking a seat across from me, opening up his little brown paper bag. Same as always: a bologna sandwich cut in half, a bottle of water, an oatmeal cookie— "And an apple," I accidentally said out loud.

"Hm?"

"Nothing, sorry, just thinkin'"

He eyed me a little curiously, looking down at his food and then back at me. "You don't eat lunch?"

"I don't exactly trust the cafeteria food."

"Then why not just bring it from home?"

I could've told him my house was filled with scattered bags of eaten fast-food, and cupboards that usually didn't house anything but ramen noodles and generic brand cereals. Yeah, suddenly Froot Loops becomes Fruity-o's. Yum. Instead, to avoid complicated explanations, I simply shrugged.

The boy looked curious once more, taking one of his sandwich halfs and offering it me as some form of friendship (at least, that's how I saw it.)

We ate lunch together everyday after that and my legs thanked me and told me to never run across campus ever again. Nero offered me half of his sandwich everyday and we'd always lie out on the grass and talk about whatever topic we happened to pick.

Nero told me about his parents, they weren't particularly strict people as long as Nero followed his religion and stayed on track at school. He'd been homeschooled mostly because his aunt had insisted it was the best route because his older cousin had gotten pregnant at a young age. But, he was the one to finally step up and ask to attend a public school because he didn't want to miss out on the important aspects of being a teenager—making friends, going to school functions, having a concrete social life.

I wondered if his expectations may have been a bit too high.

Halfway through my junior year we began hanging out outside school as well. We'd hang out at my apartment sometimes or sit on the swings in a nearby park, filling out sunny afternoons relaxing. We hung out at his house every once in awhile as well, sucking up my fear of crucified Jesus (that hung in almost every room) in favor of trying to make a good impression in front of Nero's parents. And part of that—unfortunately—was going with them to church twice a week. It was a small church (the worst kind, I deemed) and I had to stop myself from fidgeting constantly under the judgmental stares.

_Like a deer thrown into a lion's den._

Somehow, every second I had revolved around Nero.

Trying to soak up his attention. Trying to make him laugh. Trying to make him smile. I kept thinking that I was under some sort of all consuming spell and the only way to break it was to have him.

I had to have him and all of this would be over.

I could finally breathe again without him having to be around; I could go back to hanging out with my old friends that I ditched so precariously. I could just…be myself again.

It was hard though, a constant battle between right and wrong. A part of me wanted him _so badly_ but a part of me was afraid to see what would happen if I decided to make a move.

Hatred, probably.

Rejection, definitely.

But I figured—I figured if I could just have one kiss, just one, then maybe all the lust would disappear.

I eventually came to my breaking point one Saturday afternoon when my mom was out of town and Nero and I were sprawled out on my couch playing twenty questions. "Favorite place in the world?" I questioned.

"Does it have to be somewhere I've been?"

I shook my head. "Doesn't matter."

"When I was younger, my mom had this book lying around our house, a travel book with all sorts of places and beautiful pictures. I remember shutting my eyes and flipping through the pages, stopping on one at random and vowing that I'd visit there one day. And you know what I landed on?" He lifted his head from my abdomen slightly and I tried to control my breathing.

"Mm?"

"Egypt. It was probably the most beautiful picture I've seen. I tore it out and carry it around in my wallet. My parents think it's silly but I still maintain faith that I can visit there one day and be the picture instead of just seeing it." Nero reached into his pocket, opening up his wallet and pulling out the small folded up picture.

We both shifted, sitting up and scooting next to each other to look down at it. The younger leaned slightly close to my face as he pointed out the way the sun set over the sand.

My entire resolve broke; his face was too close, _too close, too close_.

I could smell his shampoo and the tooth paste on his breath.

It was maddening.

I leaned in quickly, kissing him with more force than I probably should have, my heart exploding at the feel of his soft lips against mine. A second after that, the shock set in, and I had to dig my nails into my thigh to pull myself back and prepare for what was to come.

Then something completely unexpected happened: He lunged forward and kissed me, wrapping his thin arms around my neck, almost knocking us both over with the force.

He was kissing me desperately, clinging his hands to the back of my neck and I got over the shock and started to respond.

From then on it was too little, too _much_, but too little. We were kissing wildly on the couch, hands roaming greedily as lips parted and tongue went into the moment we separated I latched my lips onto Nero's neck, licking along the area and sucking certain spots that elicited a small noise from him. I ground down my hips violently, kissing along his jaw-line, bridging over his small frame, looking into those lust filled blue eyes.

He wrapped his legs around my waist and I lifted him up, kissing him furiously as we stumbled into my bedroom, gasping and groaning loudly. We both fell onto the bed and I lifted his shirt throwing it somewhere across the room as my hands roamed over his thin torso, wondering if maybe I should save what little resolve I had left to try and salvage this situation before we made a mistake.

But I couldn't. I knew I couldn't It was petulant to think I could've ever settled for a kiss.

Or that the want would ever disappear.

Instead, it was thrumming underneath my veins, ignited and open, screaming every single thing I felt about Nero.  
_  
Hopelessly in love.  
_

The two of us as had fallen asleep after the initial sex, Nero half on top of me as I quietly rubbed my knuckles over his back and hummed a Carpenter's song.

The next time I woke up alone in my dark room, groggily reaching for my boxers on the floor next to my bed and slipping them on. My eyes adjusted for a moment, panicking for asecond before I spotted Nero sitting on the white chair next to the window, completely nude with his knees pulled to his chest. His devil bringer glowing brightly in the dark room.

He was trembling slightly, I noticed as I approached, burying his face in his thin arms.

I came up behind him and kissed his neck softly, just below his ear, wrapping my arms around his shoulders. "We'll run away," I whispered. "When we graduate, we'll run away to the unknown where nobody knows us. Maybe it wont be Egypt at first but it'll be someplace where we don't have to feel pressured to be anything but ourselves."

Nero hugged my arms tightly, planting light kisses down to my knuckle.

Trapped. With no place to go but the unknown.

But it's comforting to know we're running _towards_ something—instead of away.


End file.
